by Betty Neels
‘He’s having his lunch,’ objected Fram.
‘It’s urgent, Fram…’
‘Now what?’ asked Marius a moment later. ‘It must be something very urgent to phone me at this time of day.’ He sounded amused. ‘What have you done, Corinna?’
‘It’s not me—it’s Caroline. She’s ill. I’ve just been to see her—she caught measles from some child in Casualty—she looks awful. I thought you would want to know.’
Mr van Houben was no longer amused. ‘Very perceptive of you, my dear. How long has she been ill?’
‘She fainted on duty this morning; she’s warded. Dr Wright’s seen her.’
Marius sounded very calm. ‘Good. Now let me see, there’s a theatre case this afternoon and an appointment in Rotterdam tomorrow at three o’clock. I’ll be over sometime tomorrow morning, probably early.’
‘You’ll never get there and back…’
‘Easily—I’ll charter a plane.’
Corinna was serious for once. ‘You didn’t mind me phoning you? I thought, well, you have seen quite a lot of each other while she looked after Marc.’ She tried again, ‘What I mean is, if it were Fram or Breeze you’d want to know about them, wouldn’t you?’
‘You did quite right, Corinna, one should look after one’s own.’ He added in a kind voice, ‘Don’t worry, dear, she’s in the best possible hands.’
They said goodbye and he went back to his lunch but after a moment pushed back his chair and declared that he was no longer hungry. ‘I’d like coffee in the study, Fram. Miss Frisby is ill and I must make arrangements to go to England and see her.’
Sitting at his desk with the faithful Nep’s chin on his shoes, Mr van Houben suppressed a natural desire to leap on to the first fast-moving vehicle there was and get to Caroline without delay and studied his schedule. If he flew over in the early hours of the morning he could be back in good time to get to Rotterdam by three o’clock.
‘You see, Nep,’ he explained to the little dog, ‘I must go to her. I know she will have young Brewster to hold her hand but I must be sure that she gets the very best treatment.’ He sighed. ‘Is it not unfortunate that I should find myself in love with a girl in a million who already has the admirable young Brewster waiting to scoop her up and rush her off to Birmingham?’
He picked up the phone and set in train everything necessary to get him to the hospital by the next morning.
Caroline felt very ill and she really didn’t care if she lived or died, slipping in and out of fitful sleep, aware of being made to drink and swallow pills and of feeling far too hot. Her throat was filled with barbed wire too, and the various voices telling her that she should feel better soon did nothing to convince her that would be the case. She was aware of Dr Wright standing by the bed but she couldn’t be bothered to speak to him, only dozed off again.
It was barely seven o’clock in the morning after an endless night that she opened her swollen eyelids and saw Mr van Houben standing there looking down at her.
‘So there you are—and about time too,’ she said, and closed her eyes again and was instantly asleep, suddenly convinced in her feverish head that everything would be all right now.
He had gone, of course, when she woke up again, and since she was convinced that she had dreamt the whole thing she didn’t ask if it had been a dream or not.
Aunt Meg, neat in beige and not a hair out of place, was no dream, however. Caroline saw her sitting there when she woke again and this time her throat was bearable and she felt quite clear in the head.
‘I thought it was Mr van Houben,’ she whispered.
‘So it was, love. But that was this morning, very early; he’s gone back to Holland.’
‘Oh—why?’
Her aunt chose to misunderstand her. ‘He has his work like everyone else.’
‘I feel better,’ said Caroline and went back to sleep again.
* * *
Mr van Houben, back at his home again after his appointments in Rotterdam, went to his study and shut the door. He had, with a terrific effort, erased Caroline from his mind while he dealt with a particularly difficult case to be anaesthetised, but now he allowed himself to reflect upon his visit. The sight of her pale face blotchy with the measles rash, eyes puffed up and hair tied back, lank and terribly lustreless, had wrung his heart. He had wanted to pick her up and carry her off to his home until she was better and then marry her out of hand. The strength of his feelings for her left him speechless, so that Sister, standing beside him, had begun a résumé of Caroline’s treatment, under the impression that something had annoyed him.
He eased a foot carefully from under Nep’s whiskery chin. ‘How could I have been so blind?’ he asked the little dog, ‘and now she has the worthy Brewster to care for her. In due course he will carry her off to Birmingham and he will be a good husband and father to their children, and because I shall encounter him from time to time—for undoubtedly in the years to come he will make his mark—I shall be reminded of her, even meet her again. I have only myself to blame, have I not?’ He gave Nep a pat at his answering bark.
Then he added, ‘The least we can do is to send her some flowers.’
He picked up the phone and ordered roses, lilies, freesia and sweet-smelling carnations and then he dialled again this time to Dr Wright.
* * *
His flowers were the first thing she saw when she woke the next morning and the sight of them made her feel better at once. Then Corinna, coming to see her despite the strict rule that no one was to go near her for fear of infection, poked her head round the door, declaring that she looked better. ‘Who are the lovely flowers from? Surely not Dr Brewster?’
‘They were here when I woke up…’
Corinna nipped into the room and picked up the card by the bouquet.
‘They’re from Marius. “Best wishes for a speedy recovery”.’
‘How did he know that I had the measles?’
Corinna turned innocent blue eyes upon her. ‘No idea— Oh, probably he and Dr Wright rang each other about something or other.’
‘How kind of him.’ Caroline closed her eyes and went to sleep again. She slept a great deal, waking only to drink what was offered to her and to try and eat the minced chicken and junket and yoghurt presented to her at intervals. She wasn’t hungry and she wanted to be left alone, but pills and potions were proffered every few hours and Dr Wright came far too often, accompanied by the SNO, and once, after a day or so, by Mr van Houben.
Caroline was still feverish, but awake after a refreshing nap, stared up at him and said, ‘I don’t need an anaesthetic…’
He looked down at her, unsmiling, and it was Dr Wright who answered with a fatherly smile, ‘Mr van Houben is over here to give a lecture; naturally he wished to see you so that he could reassure Marc’s parents.’
Of course that was his only reason for coming to see her. She felt the tears pricking her eyes and swallowed them back so that she was able to say politely, ‘It was very kind of you to send the flowers. I’m really very much better.’
Mr van Houben studied her thoughtfully. Perhaps she didn’t look quite as wrung-out as previously, but she still looked what in hospital parlance was described as poorly. The rash was fading to an unattractive pale brown and a high temperature had caused her eyes to sink into their sockets. They were as beautiful as ever and nothing could destroy the beauty of the curling lashes or the gentle curves of her mouth. Her hair was deplorable, though, a
nd the tip of her nose was pink. Nothing in his impassive face allowed her to see that he found her enchantingly beautiful and that he was head-over-heels in love with her.
He said in his calm way, ‘I’m glad to hear that; Emmie will be delighted to know that too. They all sent their love.’
He smiled kindly and went away with Dr Wright, and presently Sister came to see how she was and found her in tears.
‘Tired you out, did they?’ she wanted to know. ‘Nurse shall bring you a nice drink and you just have another nap.’
She didn’t sleep but lay with her eyes shut, thinking about Mr van Houben, and when she opened them again there was another great bouquet of flowers. Its accompanying card was lying on the coverlet under her hand and she picked it up and read it. It was from Bartus and Emmie, and to her annoyance she felt the tears welling into her eyes again; she had hoped that the flowers were from Mr van Houben. ‘So silly,’ she muttered. ‘He’s already sent some.’
The staff nurse, finding her in tears, scolded her gently, changed her nightie and sat her up in bed. ‘Not to worry, now, measles often leaves you weepy. Your aunt’s coming this evening for half an hour. Even though you feel rotten, you’re over the worst.’
Caroline agreed meekly; she was over the worst of the measles, she reflected tiredly, but how long would it take to get over Mr van Houben?
Aunt Meg, coming presently, brought a brisk common sense with her which made Caroline ashamed of her self-pity. ‘Another week,’ declared that good lady, ‘and you will be allowed home—a week of good fresh air will put you back on your feet in no time.’
Caroline assured her aunt that she was very much better. ‘You’re a dear to come all this way—you will take a taxi to the station, won’t you? It can be a bit rough around here in the evenings…’
‘No need. Marius came for me; he has to see someone or other here and he will drive me back presently.’
‘Is he coming up here to fetch you?’ Caroline tried not to sound eager.
‘He said he’d send a message when he was ready.’
‘Oh, yes—of course. How is Theobald?’
He was discussed at length and then Caroline said, ‘I’m to get out of bed for an hour tomorrow; I’m sure I’ll be able to come home in about a week’s time. I’ll get Robert to drive me down.’
Aunt Meg let this pass; she had listened to Marius van Houben while they had driven up to the hospital and had drawn her own conclusions. She began a soothing chat about the garden.
* * *
Mr van Houben hadn’t purposely avoided young Brewster, although he had no wish to meet him, but coming from the consultant’s room he came face to face with him.
The young man wished him a polite good evening and Mr van Houben, well mannered even when not feeling like it, agreed and paused to ask how he was settling in.
‘Oh, getting the hang of things, sir, in fact I’m liking it very much.’
‘Good. You will return to Birmingham when you have finished here?’
‘Yes—I hope to apply for a post there—a flat goes with it, which means that we can marry—we’ve waited almost two years…’
Mr van Houben, on the point of bidding him goodbye, paused. ‘Two years?’
Robert Brewster looked sheepish. ‘Well, we got engaged although I’d only just qualified—Miriam said that being engaged would give us a good solid reason for planning for the future. I must say that I miss her very much; in fact I wanted to give the whole thing up and go back to her when I first came here, but Caroline—Nurse Frisby, sir—made me stick to it. Miriam and I are everlastingly grateful to her for her friendship—the two of them get on like a house on fire—she’s to be a bridesmaid…’
Mr van Houben registered a strong resolve to make Caroline a bride before that could happen, but beyond lending a sympathetic ear to his youthful companion’s enthusiastic talk he said nothing, but presently parted with young Brewster, who went on his way reflecting that old van Houben wasn’t such a bad stick, even if he hadn’t much to say for himself.
As for Mr van Houben, he took himself off to Women’s Medical where he spent five minutes charming Sister before going to the side-ward where Caroline lay, listening dreamily to Aunt Meg’s soothing account of the garden’s prolific crop of salad vegetables.
His, ‘Hello, Caroline,’ was uttered in a casual manner, but the sight of him sent the colour into her white face and he was pleased to see that. ‘On the mend?’ he asked cheerfully, and eyed her deliberately. ‘I must say you do look more yourself.’
‘I look a fright, so you need not pretend,’ said Caroline peevishly. ‘Aunt Meg said you weren’t coming…’
‘Otherwise you would have combed your hair and powdered your nose. Never mind.’ He smiled at her in a kindly fashion and noted with hidden delight that her spirit was returning. ‘Has the rash all gone?’
‘Yes, and my temperature is down and I’m going home very soon.’ She spoke snappily; he could at least appear sympathetic instead of being horrid. She wasn’t sure that he wasn’t secretly laughing about something too. What had possessed her to fall in love with such a tiresome man?
She wouldn’t look at him, so she didn’t see his slow smile, but Aunt Meg, an interested spectator, did.
‘You’ll be wanting to go home,’ she said, and got to her feet. ‘I’m so glad you’re better, love. I’ll come again in two days; perhaps you’ll know when you’re coming home by then.’ She bent and kissed her niece and Mr van Houben watched her, debating whether he might do the same, but, much though he wanted to, he resisted the temptation. It wouldn’t be fair; Caroline wasn’t well enough to know her own mind for the moment. He could wait.
CHAPTER NINE
CAROLINE continued to improve; despite her small size she was healthy and strong and once she was pronounced fit enough to get out of bed she quickly found her feet, ate everything offered to her and slept soundly at night. Indeed, her progress was so rapid that Dr Wright saw no reason why she shouldn’t go home and complete the good work there.
‘Two weeks,’ Caroline told Aunt Meg when she came to see her during the week. ‘Sick leave, not holidays. I can hardly wait.’
Which wasn’t quite true; the sensible part of her couldn’t wait to get away from the hospital, the quicker the better, and perhaps by the time she got back Mr van Houben would have gone to Holland, for he was still in London, her various friends had told her that, but he had made no effort to come and see her and why should he? she asked herself unhappily while at the same time wishing to remain as long as possible on the ward in case he might visit her. Of course, he didn’t. Aunt Meg came for her quite early in the morning, helped her pack a case after suitably thanking Sister and the nurses and offering the usual box of chocolates, and followed the porter carrying her case to the entrance.
When Caroline had asked what time their train was her aunt had been evasive. ‘Oh, plenty of time for that,’ she had declared, and went on to the business of stating her opinions on the hospital’s surroundings.
‘Well, yes, I know,’ said Caroline, ‘but there are masses of buses all day and the Underground isn’t far…’
‘No need of that,’ observed her aunt as they went through the doors. Breeze was there, standing by an immaculate Rover. He bade her good morning, expressed the hope that she was well again, smiled at Aunt Meg, took the case from the porter and held the door open for them to get in.
Caroline hesitated for so long that her aunt was constra
ined to give her a gentle shove from behind. ‘So kind of Marius,’ she observed comfortably, ‘lending us Breeze and his car. He kindly fetched me this morning.’
‘Is Mr van Houben in London?’ asked Caroline.
‘Oh, yes, dear. Several engagements, I believe. What a busy man he is. Did he come and see you?’
‘No,’ said Caroline. She would have liked to add something to that but she wasn’t sure what to say, and anyway she was saved from doing so by Breeze getting into the driving seat and asking if they were quite comfortable, and, if she was rather silent as they drove to Basing, her aunt made no comment.
The village looked charming, and, after the drab streets around the hospital, doubly so. The cottage gardens were full of flowers and the trees were in full leaf. Breeze pulled up sedately in front of the garden gate and Theobald came to meet them. Caroline scooped him up and he sat purring against her shoulder as they all went into the cottage.
‘You will have a cup of coffee?’ asked Aunt Meg of Breeze. ‘And I baked an apple cake… I’m sure I can’t compete with Mrs Breeze’s cooking; I hear from Mr van Houben that she is quite splendid.’ She ushered Breeze into a chair. ‘And you sit down too, love, you mustn’t overdo things for a few days. You have had measles, no doubt?’ she addressed Breeze.
‘Indeed yes, Miss Frisby, when I was a nipper, as you might say. A very nasty thing it is too. It is a great relief to us all that Miss Caroline has made such a speedy recovery.’
He didn’t stay long and he didn’t mention Mr van Houben’s name once.
She had been home for four days and was already looking more like herself, with colour in her cheeks, and her hair, shining from frequent washing and brushing, tied back in a long pony-tail, and since the weather was warm and sunny she had spent her days out of doors and acquired a faint tan. Aunt Meg cooked wholesome food and made sure that she ate it, so that her person, rendered skinny by high fever, began to fill out nicely in all the right places, and although when she thought no one was looking her face was sad, she was bright and cheerful enough in her aunt’s company. Now that she felt almost well again she began pottering in the garden, going to the village to shop for her aunt and even riding around on her bike.
